


The Adopted Doomhammer

by The_Myth_Rider



Category: Warcraft III, World of Warcraft
Genre: Adopted Children, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragons, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Fate & Destiny, Father-Daughter Relationship, For the Horde!, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Horde-centric, Original Character(s), Pre-World of Warcraft, Slice of Life, WarCraft III - Freeform, and how her presence in the Horde changes much more than anyone would expect, and how that girl is actually quite special, basically a story of if Thrall adopted a human child before the Horde left the Eastern Kingdoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 04:10:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16779322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Myth_Rider/pseuds/The_Myth_Rider
Summary: In the aftermath of a victory against the humans of Lordaeron, Thrall strolls regretfully through the ruins of the village his orcs raided. He goes hoping to find peace for himself, but what he actually finds, Thrall did not expect.





	1. Redemption In The Ashes

Night shrouded the land as Thrall marched silently down the road cutting through the human village. The pure light of the stars and full moon revealed how very desolately charred and ravaged it was around him. A vanguard of orcs— _his_ orcs—had just sliced their way through it earlier that day. There’d been a contingent of human soldiers stationed there, with the intent of preventing the orcs’ movement through the area. His grunts had returned to camp proud, and at that very moment, the entire hold was no doubt enraptured in “celebration” of their victory.

Thrall stopped, gazing solemnly down at the ruined child’s toy near his armored boot.

_Victory…but at such a cost…_

The young warchief heaved a great sigh, his face contorted in pain–one that echoed from his heart. It grieved him for such monstrosities to be necessary; war was messy, it was tragic. But they needed to _leave_. Why wouldn’t the humans just let them leave? Thrall looked up and around again, taking in the sight of the ruined village once more. With one more sigh, the Orc turned to leave and return to his camp.

But a sound halted him: a child’s cry.

Thrall turned slowly, scowling as he struggled to pinpoint the source of the cry. Luckily, not only was his hearing strong, but more cries came. He followed the sorrowful noises as they led him to one of the less damaged buildings. For whatever reason, this one was all but spared from the ruin.

 _The humans must’ve kept my orcs away from it,_ Thrall mused.

The warchief entered slowly, so as not to let his armor–a gift from an old friend–clang against itself. He would rather avoid frightening whatever youngling hid within the building. It was not long before Thrall found the child: they lay huddled and crying from beneath a bed. He took one, gentle step–but the armor of his boot betrayed him, the resulting _clunk_ making the cries cease. The shuffling that followed was undoubtedly the youngling hiding deeper beneath the bed-frame.

Thrall cringed. “Easy now, easy. I am not a threat to you.”

At first, there was no response but a sniffle. Then he heard more scuffling, followed by a fearful squeak.

Thrall sighed, “I know, I know what I am, but I will not hurt you.”

“Wh-why n-not?” The child stuttered. The voice was so small and frightened, Thrall’s heart all but cracked.

“Because…” He hesitated. What should he tell the child? Why was he even speaking to it? He had no reason to, and it was not his business. But…the child was now doubtlessly an orphan–and it was his fault.

Thrall took a deep breath and tried again. “Because I cannot leave a small pup like yourself all alone.”

At first, he was met by silence–sniffling silence, but still. Eventually, however, the child emerged. It was a young girl, much too young to be parentless; her hair was brown and shaggy, as well as dirty, along with her round face (possibly from ash and soot). Bright blue eyes shone past this, though, and met his own.

Thrall knew his face would not be the most friendly-looking, not to a small human girl. But he tried for a gentle smile anyway, lowering himself onto one knee. He held out his arm like he’d seen young squires do for the ladies, as he’d spied during his slave years. It did not occur to him, however, that a girl as young as this one would be unfamiliar with the gesture.

But that didn’t matter, as she crawled out from under the bed, ran past his offered arm and leaped to hug his armored chest. Thrall gaped at the wee lass, taken quite aback as he fought the urge to pry her off. Instead, he reasserted his smile, and moved his held-out arm to instead hold the child against his chest plate. With her secured by his arm, and with the tight grip on the armor that she had, the girl clung tight and refused to budge.

Thrall stood slowly, then turned and left the building. But just as he took one step beyond the threshold, the girl’s head came up.

“Wait!”

He stopped and looked inquiringly down at her. When it seemed she wanted down, the young Orc complied, and watched in confusion as she scurried back in. Not a few moments later, the child emerged with a blue, fine twill blanket and a small, stuffed toy dog clutched to her chest. Without hesitation, she stood right at his feet held up one hand, and flexed her fingers expectantly. Thrall smirked as he picked her right back up again, and the girl seamlessly resumed her previous, all but cuddled position, toy dog and blanket now in her possession.

The warchief gazed uncertainly at the human pup nestled against his armor. He wasn’t sure what to make of the situation, and was still hesitant of the wisdom of his decision. After all, what Orc would dare take in a human child as he just had?

…perhaps an Orc who’d lost his parents to the other race as well?

Thrall held the young girl gently and he returned to camp; he also made sure to keep her out of sight as he arrived. Luckily, the festivities had ended, and most of his orcs were either too exhausted or too drunk to notice. He entered his private sleeping quarters, then slowly removed the human pup from his armor and laid her–blanket, dog, and all–on his own bed. After he detached the clasps of his armor and placed the individual pieces back on the mannequin in the corner, Thrall then plucked his fur blanket from his bed and made himself comfortable on the floor.

Imagine the young orc’s surprise when he awoke the next morning to find the girl cuddled him against him.


	2. Hellscream Makes His Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Grommash Hellscream makes his decision regarding Thrall's new addition.

Grommash Hellscream placed his large gauntlet-clad hands on the able and leaned on it as he frowned. While there was no longer anger or frustration in his red-hinted eyes, there was exasperation, for before him was a sight he thought he’d never see. It was none other than a human pup, too little to be parentless, fearlessly (or foolishly) playing with Snowsong. The frost wolf merely laid still and allowed the pup to play in her fur, as the child seemed to be conscious of where not to be, and what not to do.

The orc got the feeling this was not the first time the pup had played with Snowsong.

Grom let out a growling sigh as he turned his head to half-heartedly glare at his warchief. The young shaman was watching the human he’d… _adopted_ play with his wolf, but the way he squirmed betrayed his awareness of the elder warrior’s gaze.

“Thrall…” Hellscream ground out silently, “What…the…hell…?”

Thrall sighed and ran an armored hand over his face. “I could not leave her in the ruins of her own home, Grom! I will not apologize for rescuing her, if that’s what you want.”

Grom just barely stopped himself from snarling. “Of course I don’t want a damn apology! You’re the warchief, I had better not hear you apologize. What I want is to hear what the _warchief_ has planned for his…”

Grom cringed in a loss for words before he finally sputtered out: “Adopted Doomhammer.”

Thrall almost chuckled at the nickname, no doubt derived from the fact that the girl had cuddled the hammer as she’d watched the two orcs argue vehemently in Orcish but moments before. Then of course, she’d lost interest due to not currently understanding the language and began to play with Snowsong. In fact, the two continued to converse in Orcish; by Thrall’s own request (“For the purposes of privacy and to acquaint her to the sound of it.”).

The young chieftain drew a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh before he finally met the Warsong’s fiery eyes.

“First and foremost, I plan to keep her—partly because I’ve grown fond of her, mostly because she’s grown attached to me and Snowsong.”

Grom grunted as he pushed off the table and crossed his arms. “And whose fault is that, mmm?”

Thrall inclined in his in affirmation, but continued undaunted. “Secondly, I fully intend on acclimating her to our people.”

Grom scowled, “So you _are_ adopting her?”

The young orc nodded, and the elder one sighed again.

“Fine then, it is clear you’ve made your choice… So tell me, anything else you have in store for her?”

A sharp gleam lit in Thrall’s blue eyes. “Before we set sail for Kalimdor, I am going to introduce her to my clan and make the adoption official. If my people accept her, then I hope to find a frost wolf who may accept her as Snowsong had me.”

Grom let his arms fall to his sides as he glared steely at the young chieftain. “I didn’t know the son of Durotan was a reckless gambler… You court so many dangers at once, Thrall. Are you certain this is wise? The pup is young, little brother; if we send her back to her people now, in a few months’ time she may not even remember us.”

Thrall sighed through his nose as his gaze fell. He could not deny the logic of Hellscream’s argument—hell, the fact that Grommash Hellscream was asking him if _“this is wise”_ was undoubtedly a glaring warning. Though the fearsome Warsong chief was not nearly as brash as he had been twenty years ago, he was still of fiery mind and heart. If he questioned the _wisdom_ of his warchief’s choices, perhaps there was credence to his words…

But then a soft bark sounded, followed by a noise Thrall had not heard in years: the laughter of a young girl. He looked over to see Snowsong affectionately nuzzling the little girl’s brown hair with her comparatively large nose, sniffing as she did so and perhaps tickling the pup. Said little girl merely giggled and hunched her shoulders, half-heartedly trying to push the large wolf’s head away. The sight was alien to Thrall, but at the same time, it was exceptionally welcome.

The Warchief returned his gaze to the eyes of his comrade and spoke without a shred of doubt.

“Whether or not this is wise no longer matters, Grom. It is far too late for me to change my decision now, not when both I and Snowsong have already grown so fond of her. We will take her to my clan, initiate her, and by then the Horde should be fully amassed and we’ll be on our way out to sea.”

Grommash held Thrall’s gaze for a long while, scrutinizing every flicker of emotion within the sharp blue eyes—a color that to orcs, denoted a great destiny…a color the girl herself shared. Though being human, it was unlikely the dramatic gravity accompanying the eye color counted for her. Unlikely…not impossible… Finally, the warrior sigh and broke his staring match with the warchief.

“Very well, Thrall…I concede in this argument, if only out of respect for you. If the weapon and the wolf of the Warchief of the Horde accept the pup, then it is only proper that so should his men.”

Thrall smiled, then stepped closer to the Warsong and clapped a hand on his shoulder, a resounding _clank_ echoing as armor struck armor.

“It means a great deal to me to hear that, Grom. I swear, as a proper parent I will take full responsibility with the girl.”

Suddenly, an ornery gleam shone in Grom’s eyes as he smirked at Thrall. “That reminds me…do you even know _how_ to raise a pup?”

As the young orc’s eyes widened in horror, Hellscream bellowed in laughter. “Never fear, Thrall, never fear! You have the mighty Hellscream on your side, and believe it or not, I have some measure of experience in this!” The mirth faded as Grom frowned. “Though I’ll admit, raising a human pup will be much different than raising an orc one.”

Thrall mustered up a half-smile. “Then it is fortunate I have experience with human training, mmm? It seems we shall have to work together to ensure the girl is properly reared with a healthy balance of Human and Orcish.”

Grom let out another hearty chuckle. “Two orcs raising a human pup…Azeroth just got a little bit stranger!”

Thrall glanced over at the little girl, who was now dozing off against Snowsong’s fluffy chest, and smiled. “Indeed it has…”

A silence comfortably reigned for a few moments until it was broken by Hellscream.

“Erm…Thrall?”

“Yes?”

“What’s the pup’s name?”

“…damn it…”

With a drawn-out sigh, Thrall lumbered around the table to Snowsong whilst ignoring Grom’s smothered chuckles. The frost wolf was still, gently hugging the little girl with her muzzle, her eyes closed. As her companion approached, Snowsong didn’t move but did open her eyes to regard the orc. Thrall knelt as quietly as he could and, bowing his head just the slightest, reached out for the child. Snowsong hesitated for only a moment before she pulled her head back, gently nudging the top of the girl’s head. Just as she began to stir, the young orc had already pried her from his wolf’s fur and held her in his arms.

“Wake up, little one,” Thrall whispered, speaking in Common now. “You nodded off while you were playing with Snowsong.”

The girl sniffled and yawned, then rubbed her eyes before she looked up at Thrall. “I’m sorry…I didn’t know what you were saying, and you guys were being boring.”

Grom chuckled from where he stood, and Thrall couldn’t help but grin. “Aye, we were being rather boring. But while we were talking, I realized I’d made a mistake.”

For a moment, a flicker of fear seemed to appear in her eyes. The girl discreetly gripped the armor on his arms, but it didn’t go unnoticed. The warchief held her closer and let his smile grow.

“No need to worry, little one. I simply remembered that I had forgotten to ask you what your name was. What is your name, little one?”

Instantly the girl seemed relieved, and sat up in his arms before she made an adorable attempt at ferocity. She screwed up her face in a “fearsome” glare and puffed out her chest.

“My name is Nichole! It means victory!”

Hellscream nearly immediately burst out in boisterous laughter. “Victory! Her name is _victory!_ How perfect, haha!”

Though Nichole initially wilted at the sudden loudness of the warrior, to her credit she swiftly recovered and rebuilt her fierce façade. As Grom approached—and to his own credit, not too quickly—he saluted the girl with a wide grin. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, little _lok’tar_. I am Grommash Hellscream of the Warsong Clan, and I have agreed to help this young fool here raise you as a member of our Horde.”

Nichole stared wide-eyed at Grom for a few beats before she leaned towards Thrall, who leaned closer in return. “Papa, why is Grom not wearing a shirt?”

The suddenness and innocence of the question stunned the Orcish duo at first. Grom recovered first as he laughed once more, while Thrall merely smiled and chuckled.

“Because, little one, his might in battle works best if he can move freely. Besides, Grom may be not truly be Blademaster, but he’s as hard to hit as one.”

Nichole now frowned at Thrall and tilted her head. “What’s a Blademaster? Is it like a knight? Can I be one?” Suddenly, the little girl lit up with excitement and raised her fists in the air. “Can I have a _BIIIIG_ sword?!”

While Thrall gaped in surprise, Grom merely gave a wicked smile. “By the elements, I think I like her…”


	3. The Elements Themselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I had pre-written for a while, and though I have the next bit partially written, it may take a while. But I really do love this story, it's very important to me. So know that I will NEVER abandon this story, ever; it's never far from my mind. I've even sketched out concepts of various special things for the Little Lok'tar in the future. *wink wink*

It was three days later when the Frostwolf Clan arrived at the exodus point, the time greater than for most due to coming all the way from their valley in the Alterac Mountains. They had initially been hesitant to abandon the land they’d claimed as their new home, but when first explained the purpose of their journey by Thrall—the son of their cherished last chief Durotan, and their current chief today—the reclusive, cold-loving orcs happily gathered their belongings and their wolven companions, and made for the exodus point. After all, not only had Thrall already done great things for his people since even before becoming Warchief of the Horde, but they trusted the son of Durotan’s wisdom. If he saw fit to finally abandon the human lands with the hope of truly laying claim to a home for the orcs, far be it from them to defy him.

Though, when they did arrive, Thrall was very amused to note they camped not too far but also not too near the bulk of the Horde. He simply chalked it up to their stubborn tradition of neutrality, even with their own kind; after all, Drek’Thar had told him stories of the days when his father led them. Thrall knew full well that it had always served them well, and had yet to fail.

Once he’d received word that the Frostwolf Clan was set up, albeit temporarily as with everyone else, the young Warchief wasted no time to saddle his black riding wolf in the privacy of the rear of his provisional hut.

With the afternoon sun beating down on his black armor, Thrall checked the straps that kept the saddle secure on his riding wolf’s back; as he wanted to make sure it wouldn’t slip—but neither did he want undue chafing to harm the beast. He normally wouldn’t put so much effort into such a detail, but as he glanced up from his work to the little human girl who already bounced in excitement atop the saddle, he smiled. Such worries too new to Thrall, but so far, he took them in stride and with some measure of joy.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind him, and Thrall’s ears twitched as he heard Grom Hellscream speak.

“Off to introduce the little _lok’tar_ to the Frostwolves, are you?” The Warsong inquired in Orcish and with a chuckle.

Thrall harrumphed in amusement, mostly at the nickname Grom used in reference to his daughter. Ever since the pup had mentioned the meaning of her name, Hellscream had quickly taken to calling her their “little victory”. He double-checked a strap one more time before he turned to regard the elder warrior.

“Aye, I am.” He replied, also in Orcish. “Now that they’re here and settled for the moment, she will meet them and I will ask Drek’Thar for any counsel he may have.”

Thrall’s expression grew somber as he continued, “Given that neither myself nor my father have had proper chances at fatherhood, perhaps he will have advice to aid the two of us in rearing Nichole.”

Grom crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, and Thrall frowned at the motion. “What is it, Grom? You’re not turning back on me now, are you?”

He’d made a go at humor at the end, and was relieved when Grom smirked and gave a chuckle. “Of course not, little brother. I was merely thinking...if the pup is to truly be of the Horde, she needs a proper Orcish name, wouldn’t you agree?”

Thrall frowned again, more intensely this time as he fought to keep himself from bristling. “I thought you liked her name, Grom?”

Hellscream held up gauntleted hands, palms outward, in peace. “I do very much, Thrall, calm down. It is merely my opinion that should you decide to introduce her to the Horde as a whole, that it would do her good to have a name they would be more than happy to chant should be become a great warrior.”

Thrall opened his mouth to object, but stalled as his gaze fell and he thought. Once again, the warrior caught him off guard with wise words; he needed to stop doubting him, though he still tended to be brash every now and again. But Grom Hellscream had been a part of their people and their culture much, much longer than he had, and knew very well how the mind of an Orcish warrior worked. No matter how much the little girl may or may not prove herself a mighty combatant in the future, shouting for the glory of one with a human name may make even the most accepting of their grunts hesitate.

_If she is to be Horde, the more engrossed the better, I suppose._

_But…_

Thrall took a breath and met Grom’s gaze again. “Thank you for your advice, Grom. You make an excellent point, yet again; I will consider it as we go to my clan, and bring it up to Drek’Thar when we speak.”

Grom smiled, a kind one that very few individuals ever saw. “You’re welcome, as always, Warchief. While you’re gone, I’ll keep an eye on the Horde; and if you’ll allow me, I want to prepare them for when you announce your daughter to them.”

He then raised an eyebrow. “Upon your return from your clan, I hope.”

Thrall chuckled, “Fine, fine, I won’t delay and will tell them when we’re back. I trust you to warn them appropriately of the fearsome beast I’ve adopted.”

Hellscream immediately bellowed with laughter, head thrown back and one hand slapped against his stomach.

The past couple of days had verily amused the warrior, as he got to know Nichole more and all too happily discovered her to be quite the rambunctious young pup. Though she only ever played gently with Snowsong, with Grom she seemed aware of his warrior status and would try her hardest to tackle the much, _much, MUCH_ larger orc to the ground. Like a father wolf training his pup to kill, Grom would of course take the fall and yield over-dramatically, much to Thrall’s chagrin but Nichole’s delight. But despite being seemingly embarrassed by the displays, the Warchief had still enjoyed watching the most feared Orcish warrior the Horde had play so gently with a human child.

With a brief farewell to Grom, Thrall hoisted himself onto the saddle right behind Nichole, the little girl barely taking up any space herself. Once she was secured in his lap, and she’d made her own sendoff to Hellscream, Thrall directed his wolf into a casual stride onto the Frostwolf camp. The black furred beast was not Snowsong, who materialized out of nowhere and kept pace with the slightly larger wolf. Rather, the older wolf was one Thrall chose to ride until Snowsong was old enough and strong enough to carry him herself. The black-furred beast seemed content with its temporary position as Thrall’s battle wolf, and it even took every opportunity to bequeath onto the young frost wolf tips and tricks on how best to carry a heavily armored orc.

In a matter of minutes, the four found themselves coming upon the solitary camp some little ways from the bulky Horde camp. The closer they got, the more enraptured Nichole became as she dared to lean forward and catch a better glimpse.

On the surface, the Frostwolf Camp did not differ all that much from the neighboring Horde encampment. The trappings bore Frostwolf crests instead of the standard Horde one, and rather than red as the dominant color, the buildings were adorned with soft, earthy browns. Something about how they were built almost seemed comforting; and despite being so young, Nichole got the strangest feeling that these buildings looked less… _aggressive_ than the main camp, if that were possible. Though, the buildings still looked fearsome despite being temporary lodgings—it was still _Orcish_ architecture, after all—but the young pup thought they seemed nicer.

While Nichole grew more excited as they neared the camp, Thrall grew more nervous. The pup didn’t notice as his fists clenched tightly, and she couldn’t see his face as his lips tightened around his tusks. Though the young orc trusted his people, even he could not completely fend off the doubt the squirmed in the back of his mind. The Frostwolf Clan was not as hostile as the rest of the Horde was, not by a long shot; hell, Drek’Thar had told him how they hadn’t even joined the Horde under true pretenses, and how their skin only turned green from the use of fel and proximity. The odds were, if any Orc clan was going to be amenable towards the adopted human, it would be the Frostwolf Clan.

Still, the past two wars did little to give orcs a reason to trust humans…

_…but Nichole is young, far too young to hate._

That thought quelled the doubt in Thrall’s mind for the moment, and allowed him to ease the tension in his body. Just in time, for the orcs who milled outdoors had begun to take notice of them. Many called out to the others, announcing their cherished wolf-son’s return, while others waved in greeting, and others still walked to meet him halfway. Those who approached quickly lost the smiles they’d been wearing—most of them frowned in confusion, eyes widened in shock as they noticed the young human girl. A few dared to scowl once they noticed her, but when those individuals noticed the scathing glare Thrall sent them, they quickly dropped their scowls.

By the time Thrall pulled his wolf to a stop, an orc whose back was slouched with age pushed his way past the rest to greet them. The old orc’s hair was white as snow, a great beard falling from his chin while two braids framed his wrinkled face. A black strip of cloth covered his eyes, covering that which could not see anyways. The old shaman smiled up at Thrall, and the young orc smiled back.

It was good to see Drek’Thar again.

“Throm-ka Warchief,” The shaman greeted with a smile. “It is good to know you are doing well. The past few weeks have not been the kindest, but that you have been spared pleases me.”

“Throm-ka, Drek’Thar. Though I would rather not be faring better than the rest of my people, I finally have a means of changing that.”

Drek’Thar chuckled, and his smile turned wry. “Tell me, young Warchief, do your means involve these human ships the Warsong spoke of, or of the human pup in your lap?”

Thrall froze as his smile fell, and many of the other Frostwolf orcs around them stilled in shock as well. Though they were all familiar with Drek’Thar’s defiant ability to sense the things around him, in spite of his lifelong blindness, it often caught them off guard. But then, this situation was more surprising than usual…none of them could fathom how the shaman could detect a small thing that had yet to make a sound.

“Can you _see_ me?!”

…until now, at least.

Drek’Thar chuckled at the astounded question thrown at him. “Not exactly, little one, though I will explain to you both how I knew you were here later. For now, welcome to the camp of the Frostwolf Clan.”

The old orc turned and waved a beckoning hand as he walked to the main hall erected in the center of the camp. Thrall directed his black wolf to follow the old shaman, a while they continued to stare the Frostwolves parted around them. Once they’d reached the building’s threshold, Thrall skillfully leaped off the beast. After helped Nichole down and deposited her safely on the ground, the Warchief patted the wolf on its shoulder. The great beast huffed in understanding before it sauntered off to find a place to nap.

The wolf was a lazy one when he wanted to be.

Thrall walked to enter the hall, but paused within the threshold as the little girl continued in undaunted. He cast a somber glare out at his clan, for they’d watched as the trio had ignored them earlier. When he first looked, he saw a mixture of discontent that was dominated mostly by confusion, but partially by shock. While the discontent was hidden as they noticed his glare, Thrall knew it was not entirely gone.

“Do you doubt me so, my family?” He asked of him in Orcish.

The crowd had the decently to appear sheepish, for while his tone was stoic there was an undeniable undercurrent of hurt. Though the young orc had not been with them long, they were now reminded that this was their lost son of Durotan; he who returned and rightfully earned his place among them, who even befriended and was named successor by Orgrim Doomhammer, who’d been the best friend of his father before him. They truly had no good reason to doubt him now, and with due shame the crowd of Frostwolves saluted and returned to their activities.

Thrall allowed himself a grin, pleased at how that turned out. He had felt somewhat hurt they would doubt him, but as he’d understood after conversing with Grom…it was understandable. To adopt a human girl was unheard of, but the young warchief would be damned if he let old prejudices stop him. Thrall nodded to himself before he turned and continued into the building. The sight he found was certainly _not_ one he expected…

If he thought the sight of Nichole playing with Snowsong was strange…the sight of that same little girl happily settled in Drek’Thar’s lap was damn near outlandish.

While the little girl merely smiled cheekily at the stunned look on his face, Drek’Thar chuckled. “Is something wrong, Warchief? You started to enter but you halted a second time…has something peculiar caught your eye, perhaps?”

Thrall sighed and shook his head…the old shaman was enjoying this far too much for the younger shaman’s liking. After taking a shoring breath he fully entered the large open room, and walked around the fair-sized fire in the center. The main hall, due to its temporary structure was only comprised of the one room, so it was fairly large as single rooms went. The fire wasn’t so large that it blocked Drek’Thar from vision, who sat behind it; once he’d reached the gleeful pair, Thrall settled himself next to them.

“I take it from your amiable positions, Drek’Thar, that you like her?” The warchief asked once he’d gotten over the strangeness of the sight.

Drek’Thar hummed a happy tune before he nodded. “Indeed, Warchief. So far, she has been very kind and respectful, and not at all deterred by anything. I am very impressed…”

As said girl squirmed proudly in his lap, the old orc smiled and chuckled again. Thrall smiled as well, for the strangeness had faded quickly and he found he enjoyed it immensely. That Nichole had earned the favor of two important orc figures—in both his life and the Horde as a whole—relieved many of the young orc’s worries. Between him, Grommash Hellscream, and Drek’Thar…it shouldn’t be any trouble for her to earn the favor of the Horde as a whole.

Then Thrall remembered how Drek’Thar had been aware of her when they arrived, and he frowned. He leaned down closer to Nichole’s level, and couldn’t help a small grin when she attentively leaned forward and met his gaze.

“Nichole, do you mind if I speak with Drek’Thar in Orcish? There is something important we need to discuss.”

The mighty pout was not what he’d expected, nor how she defiantly crossed her arms. “Only if you make me a promise!”

Thrall pointedly ignored the chuckles from above. “What promise would that be, little one?”

“Promise you teach it to me! I wanna say it too!”

The warchief sighed in relief and smiled, “Very well, little _lok’tar_ , you have my word I will teach you Orcish.”

Nichole smiled and gave a satisfied hum as she relaxed in the old orc’s lap again, seemingly content to watch the fire. With permission acquired, Thrall sat back and leveled a solemn look at the elder shaman. Before he could speak, he saw Drek’Thar mouth “little lok’tar” with a wry smirk and an eyebrow raised in question. The warchief merely waved a hand to signify he’d explain later before he spoke.

“Drek’Thar…now that we are here alone in the hall, I must ask. How did you know Nichole was with me when we came? She had yet to make a sound, and we were mounted on my wolf.”

The shaman took a deep breath, and gazed solemnly at the fire before him, blindness be damned. His affinity for and closeness to the elements gave Drek’Thar senses beyond what most blind ones had, and so he knew beyond sound and heat there was a fire before him. Thrall knew he could feel its presence, its energy, as he could too; the only difference was, the younger shaman could see its physical manifestation.

“That is a peculiarity in and of itself, young Thrall. Though I fully know and understand how I sensed her presence,” Drek’Thar paused to awkwardly but kindly pat Nichole’s head, who giggled. “I still can’t quite comprehend how it could be possible…”

The pause that followed was powerful, and weighed heavily on both orcs. Thrall stewed in worry and confusion for only a short time before the old orc spoke again.

“I could feel the very elements as they hovered around her.”

The young warchief froze, too shocked to even bother to breathe till his body demanded air. He took a shuddering breath, but still felt shaken…that couldn’t be right…

“I do not mean to insult, Drek’Thar, but…” Thrall cringed. “It is possible at all it wasn’t just me? After all, you had said yourself but a few years ago, that I was the first orc shaman in decades…as well as the most powerful one in even more.”

Drek’Thar nodded. “This is true, Thrall, and do not worry about your reservation. When I first felt them, I couldn’t believe it either…it was before you’d stopped before us I’d sensed them, and only when you’d reached us had I accepted the truth. I had felt the elements all but _dance_ around her, Thrall…there was no mistaking it. The very elements themselves adore her, Warchief.”

Thrall sighed through his nose as he frowned. The situation he found himself in since he first found the girl seemed to be growing stranger by the moment. From the simple strangeness of an orc rescuing a human, to that orc _adopting_ said human, to Hellscream himself offering to help with rearing…to discovering the girl was chosen by even the elements?

_What could this mean? She is human, but so many orc signposts of destiny are making themselves startlingly apparent…_

As if he somehow heard the younger shaman’s thoughts, Drek’Thar spoke…and made Thrall’s deeper musings alive in word.

“I believe this girl may have a shaman’s future.”

Thrall leaned back and eyed Nichole, only doing so because her half-lidded eyes were still mostly focused on the fire. From appearance alone, there were no shamanistic signs anywhere to be found on the girl; other than of course eyes of blue, but she human…surely their beliefs regarding the eye color were moot in her case…right? The young orc took a breath and focused again, but this time he felt for the elements surrounding them in the room. Most prominently Thrall felt the spirit of the fire before them, and initially all seemed as it usually was.

Until he felt it…the fire’s spirit, deep within the flame and nearly on another plane entirely. It did not dance, but Thrall could feel its focus aimed not towards him or Drek’Thar…it instead had all its attention on the little human girl in the old orc’s embrace. Even the air in the room seemed to swirl ever so slightly, with her at its epicenter, and the ground beneath them lay calmest directly underneath her.

A strange urge overcame him, and curious to see where it led, Thrall reached for his side and lifted the Doomhammer from where it clung on his belt. Still focused on the elements, he saw them all take brief notice of the shamanistic tool before they returned their attention to Nichole. The young shaman then, slowly and carefully, held the head of the hammer towards the young girl. It took a moment, for she seemed oddly distracted from her stare at the fire before she blinked out of it and glanced at the hammer. Nichole looked curiously up at Thrall, who sent her an encouraging smile as he nodded, and shook the hammer ever so slightly. With the slightest quirk of her mouth, the girl giggled lightly before she reached out with both hands and gripped the stone head of the Doomhammer.

In a blinding flash of elemental energy, Drek’Thar and Thrall were tossed aside as a torrent of the energy erupted from the hammer.

Thrall himself was thrown clear across the room, where he’d skid to a stop facedown. As he groaned from the jar of the impact, he risked a glance up and looked for Drek’Thar; he spotted the orc, and was relieved to see he was no worse for wear. The warchief then looked at where he’d been and couldn’t stop the gasp that came. The sight was astonishing to say the least, as the elements seemed to have made their “dance” Drek’Thar mentioned physically apparent.

The wood the fire had been burning was blasted away, but the fire itself somehow remained and had grown to the point it was frighteningly close to the ceiling. The wind had picked up within the building, swirling in a mild whirlwind in the center, so strongly it was visible thanks to the dirt caught in its grip. The earth itself seemed like it was trying to move, shuddering beneath them as minor juts of rock made themselves known. There was no water in the building before the blast, but in some way some water had escaped confinement from outside and flowed its way in, and now soared in the air alongside the whirlwind.

At the epicenter of all of this was Nichole, who sat still attached to the Doomhammer. Said hammer’s head was glowing bright and white, and its luminance cast itself all throughout the building.

Thrall focused on the human girl’s face, and felt his blood boil when he saw fear and confusion upon it. With a growl and bared teeth, the young shaman immediately began to crawl to her, arm over arm as he defied the elements that churned around them. It seemed to take an eternity—as while they all but ignored him, the elements’ power was still to be reckoned with—but the warchief finally reached his daughter. Thrall reached out his armored hand, pushing past the roiling wind to grip the Doomhammer’s handle. He instantly spasmed, as a wild bolt of electricity raced up his arm, but didn’t let go; rather he used his own shamanism and the hammer’s power to call out to the elements.

_Fire! Water! Earth! Air! Calm yourselves, please! Your power is understood and respected, but you are scaring her! You are scaring my daughter! Stop this, now!_

The last thing he was expecting was for the fuel-less fire to take on a vaguely humanoid form above him, and stare blankly down at him. Nor did he expect loosely formed avatars of the other three to form as well, their gazes locked on his prone form as they stood intimidatingly above him. Then, all the elements spoke to him at once, in a single booming voice…

**_THE GIRL HAS BEEN CHOSEN, SHAMAN. A GRAND AND MIGHTY DESTINY AWAITS IN HER FUTURE. YOU WOULD HAVE US STOP, BUT SHE WILL BE NEEDED IN THE YEARS TO COME; NEEDED BY YOU, BY YOUR HORDE, AND BY ALL THE DENIZENS OF THIS WORLD. WE CANNOT LET HER GO._ **

Thrall shut his eyes hard, teeth still bared as he cringed and shook his head. In another show of defiance, the warchief reached his free arm out for Nichole. Though it was a struggle, and the shout he’d let out was drowned by the wind, Thrall managed to wrap his arm securely around the little girl. Said girl, despite still being frozen in fear by the elemental insanity around her, leaned into his touch even as she couldn’t remove her hands from the Doomhammer.

_I understand, elements! I do! But she is far too young, she is but a child!_

**_SHE HAS BEEN CHOSEN, SHAMAN!!!_ **

The shout echoed in the warchief’s mind, leaving him stunned as he recovered from the sheer power in the words. Thrall took a shoring breath, and tightened his grip on the Doomhammer as he spoke again.

_I hear you, and I understand! I will train her, elements; I will raise her to be a shaman as I have been. She will learn your ways and your power, she’s even already made several requests to delve deeper into my people’s ways. We were once devoted to you, to the elements…shamanism was once the core of the orc way… Now that we have gained your favor once more, allow me to do this for you! Leave my daughter be for now, but when next you meet her, she will be mighty and grown and will have come for you herself!_

_BUT LEAVE HER NOW, SHE IS NOT READY FOR YOU._

For a long, frightening stretch of time the elements continued to rage around, the orc’s pleas unheeded. But gradually they began to die down; the fire sputtered and died out with no elemental to keep it unnaturally burning, the water fell to the ground and seeped into it, the earth stilled though the juts of rock remained, and the wind quieted and let the dust it’d captured fall to the earth. Though they calmed down, as Thrall looked up, the once vague elementals were now fully formed and still had their gazes upon him.

He scowled fiercely as he pulled Nichole closer into his embrace, and as he stood Thrall hefted the Doomhammer.

The elementals stared at him a few moments longer, his not-so-subtle threat paid no attention. Without a sound or a movement, the powerful beings simply faded away…though Thrall stiffened as they left him with a firm reminder.

**_REMEMBER YOUR OATH, SHAMAN…RAISE THE ADOPTED DOOMHAMMER TO BE A MIGHTY SHAMAN AS LIKE YOU._ **

**_SHE HAS BEEN CHOSEN…_ **

Thrall stood stock still for a while longer, adrenaline coursing through his veins like fire. He warily scanned the large, open and now elementally devastated room. Nowhere did he see any sign that elementals remained, only the aftermath of their show of possession. The young orc had heard tell of the elements’… _fervor_ in the past, but to witness their autonomy in person as such was a shock to his system. Though, the fact that he’d literally been shocked was of no help at all.

Once the adrenaline faded, and he thought for sure they were gone, Thrall gently set his daughter down and hurried to kneel at Drek’Thar’s side. The old orc was luckily unfazed enough he’d sat himself up, but the younger shaman still checked him for injury. Only once he’d checked a second time and found no sign of hurt did Thrall listen to the old orc’s protests and sit back. As he dropped the Doomhammer and held his face in his hands, Thrall heard Drek’Thar speak:

“That was…intense,” Thrall chuckled drily at his words, but froze when he continued. “…and like nothing I’d seen them do before…”

The warchief looked up and stared at where the blindfold covered the Frostwolf’s eyes. “What do you mean you’ve never seen the elements do that? Are you saying they’ve never made such fierce claims upon individuals before?”

Drek’Thar immediately shook his head, only to pause and groan; the impact and elemental mayhem must’ve messed with his head as well. “No, they’ve chosen individuals in the past, and shows like that are not unheard of…though that was surely more forceful than usual. Rather…I’ve never seen nor heard of a _human_ receiving the elements’ attention like that.”

Thrall shakily stood to his feet, and turned to glance back at his daughter. Nichole sat with her knees to her chin, arms wrapped around them; while he had checked on Drek’Thar, Snowsong had ran into the building and now nuzzled the young girl with insistent whines that quieted when Nichole reached up and hugged the frost wolf. Thrall allowed himself a moment to smile at the sight before he dropped his gaze in thought.

“Neither have I…from what I know of man’s history, they’ve never had the connection to the elements we have. They’ve always ever combated the elements with their bare hands, or have utilized magic. But…for the elements themselves to come in force and outright _claim_ a _human_ …”

Drek’Thar made to stand, and the moment he stumbled Thrall immediately assisted him. Once the older shaman was steady on his feet, he spoke: “Thrall…while I doubt it was as clear as you could hear, I _could_ hear the elements. Did they…did they call her what I think they did?”

Thrall sighed and nodded. “Indeed, Drek’Thar…they called her ‘The Adopted Doomhammer’. Strangely enough, Grom had called her that when we were arguing over her after I’d introduced them. She’d been hugging the hammer when we arrived in the room we spoke in, and that had spurred it for him. The Doomhammer hadn’t behaved quite as…violently that time, I don’t understand what was different today.”

Drek’Thar hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps…perhaps it was the presence of so many of our people. As you know, we orcs have always had close ties to the elements, and thanks to you we have become close to them again. Mayhap when more shamans arrived at the Exodus point, the elements became more aware here and finally could see her. When I sensed them dancing around her as you approached our camp, it had seemed like they’d already been performing the act for some time.”

Thrall sighed once more, but this one was far more frustrated as he ran a hand over his face. “I know I was asking for trouble when I decided to adopt a human girl, but I never imagined the _Doomhammer_ and the very elements _themselves_ would do it as well!”

The old shaman chuckled and laid a sympathetic hand on a black pauldrons. “The burden of eyes of blue is certainly a heavy one, yes…but I trust that you and your daughter will fare just fine. Now with that spectacle dealt with, I believe we should further make the adoption official, wouldn’t you agree, Warchief?”

Thrall felt him relax and smiled as he nodded in agreement. The young orc reached down and lifted the Doomhammer, and regarded it suspiciously before he set it back into place on his belt. He then approached the wolf and the girl, and knelt before them as he held out his arms.

“Little one…” Thrall spoke the Common softly, so as not to spook the poor girl. “Are you alright? Forgive me, I did not expect that to happen…the elements rarely behave so forwardly.”

Nichole didn’t hesitate to let go of Snowsong and all but leap into Thrall’s waiting arms. Once she’d settled against his breastplate, the orc immediately wrapped his enormous arms around her small frame and held her close as he stood. He paused for a moment, simply holding the girl until she finally spoke.

“’m fine, papa…they were just really loud. Pretty, but loud…”

Thrall couldn’t stifle the chuckle that came, nor could he stem the pride he felt swell in his chest. Sometimes Nichole’s age caused the orc to forget how surprisingly brave…or simply foolishly unfazed the girl could be. That a raging maelstrom of elemental power, followed by being surrounded by the ethereal manifestations of those very elements, only left her mildly unsettled was impressive. The warchief smirked at the mental image of how Hellscream would react, but stowed the image for now as he walked out of the hut.

Once outside, he was immediately met with a crowd of concerned Frostwolf orcs. They were kept at bay by the clan’s shamans, who stood closest to the hut and with their backs to Thrall. But as soon as the crowd took notice of them, the shaman directly in front of Thrall turned to face him.

“Warchief,” The shaman growled in greeting, nodded his wolf-cowl-clad head in respect. “We felt the elements stirring within and thought it best to leave you and the chieftain be, rather than risk the wrath of the elements.”

The warchief nodded, and absently noticed Nichole’s reaction to the other shaman. Though she remained clung to his armored chest, he could feel her ever-so-slightly gravitate toward the other orc. Thrall kept his face schooled in a solemn expression rather than let the grin that threatened to rise escape.

“Very good, brother, I thank you and the others for keeping the clan away. The elements certainly were…more insistent than they usually are.”

The shaman let out a mild growl and nodded, and Thrall noticed his eyes flicked down to the girl in his arms. He also noticed the confusion and intrigued that appeared in the other shaman’s eyes.

“They’ve claimed her…” The shaman whispered in shock.

Thrall nodded. “Indeed…and so have I.”

The warchief stepped forward, the shamans encircling the doorway falling back into the crowd. Thrall paused, and ensured he had everyone’s full attention as he awaited Drek’Thar. Once he felt the old orc’s presence beside him, the young orc took a deep breath.

“Orcs of the Frostwolf Clan!” Thrall shouted, and the crowd stood a bit straighter. “I am sure all of you have been wondering since I arrived as to why I had this human girl in my company.”

Most of them nodded, and the eyes of a few of them even dropped down to regard Nichole.

“I brought her here because I am adopting her as my daughter, and sought to make her a Frostwolf.”

The gasps and shouts of protest came as expected, and Thrall weathered the brunt of them as he waited for them to calm. What few seemed to enflamed for his liking were glared down till they duly averted their gazes.

“I understand your reservations, but my decision had already been made some time ago.”

Thrall then told them the tale of meeting his newfound daughter, of the village she once called home and her now being lost in the world. From their eyes, he could see them draw the parallels between their warchief and the girl he held. Though there were minute differences between their respective beginnings, there were enough similarities for the Frostwolf Clan to feel for the girl. It also helped when Thrall explained that he held himself accountable for Nichole’s situation, the girl herself responded simply by cuddling closer to him (a sight lost on not a single Frostwolf present).

The only time the orcs seemed shocked was when Thrall mentioned Nichole’s introduction to Grom Hellscream, and the pair’s antics the past couple of days.

Once the warchief was finished with the girl’s tale, he took several moments to meet the eyes of each Frostwolf in turn…even Drek’Thar, if by technicality. The Frostwolves were silent and contemplative, but Thrall was relieved to see that’s all there was; none of the previous hostility or reservations remained in his clan’s eyes. It was not long before one of the shamans, the same one Thrall spoke to before, approached him.

“Warchief…I am honored to be the first to say aloud, that I happily accept this human girl as a member of our clan.” The orc met Nichole’s blue eyes with his brown ones, and smiled. “To have so quickly earned the affection and approval of our warchief, our clan chief, _and_ of the mighty Hellscream…these are no small feats.”

The shaman drew himself up in a strong posture, then saluted Nichole. “Little pup, it is my belief that you have proved yourself moreover, and I would personally be honored to call you ‘little sister’.”

Thrall glanced down just in time to catch his daughter’s grin, and he kept her steady in his grip as she shifted. All orcs present watched with great amusement as Nichole made as fierce a returned salute as she could, face screwed up in a fearsome glare.

“I like you too, wolfy orc!”

The amused laughter that erupted from the Frostwolf clan proved to be a great relief for Thrall as he chuckled and smiled at his daughter. The laughter continued until Drek’Thar stepped forward, hand raised to quiet down the mirth.

“That is enough for now, everyone. We have something of great importance to do now!”

The crowd milled in confusion for only a moment before a wide grin spread across the old shaman’s face. “We must celebrate our newest clan member, and give her a proper initiation!”

Uproarious cheers and shouts answered him, and when Thrall looked he saw Nichole had her hands over her ears. He frowned in concern and lifted her up closer to his face.

“Is something wrong, little _lok’tar?_ ”

Her bright blue eyes met his as she shook her head. “No I’m fine, they were just really loud.”

Thrall chuckled, and on instinct alone leaned forward and brushed his nose against her smaller one—an act she giggled at and returned. “You’ll get used to it in time, Nichole. You’ve already proven to be more Orcish than even I expected, I’m sure you’ll learn quickly.”


End file.
